Disruptor
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Carol must contend with an unusally attentive and possibly jealous Daryl when a newcomer to the camp befriends her. Sequel to 'Roses', rated for language. Complete.
1. Group Zen Part 1

**Heya guys! **

**So I decided (with some pursuasion from dearest Alamo Girl) to add on to the 'Roses'-verse I'd created! This is a continuance, and I may also be writing a prequel or two. This will be a small multi-chapter fic, and will range from humorous to dramatic to (yes) romantic(ish)!**

**Hope y'all enjoy. Please review and remember: I am only a TWD-fan-drone. I own nothing, but I do reserve the right to obsess!**

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><p>The heat had come quickly, as it usually did in the south; even so, Carol was not expecting to walk out into what felt like an inferno.<p>

It was mid-March, and the campgrounds continued to act as a haven for the survivors. Day by day they existed as a family in this little isolated area of the state. They maintained the duties they'd lived by since the End began: Rick took it upon himself to be the major decision-maker, Shane continued to fume in the background, his violent attitude held at bay by the likes of T-Dog and Daryl, and the women fell back into what came almost second-nature to them: She, Lori and Maggie took care of the laundry, cooked most of the meals, and tended any unexpected injuries. And of course, they _all_ pitched in to help care for and raise little Sophie.

Andrea split her time between laundry and gun-toting, which, considering her sharp eye and clear talent with such weapons, Carol did not mind in the least.

Even she herself had come to learn to use a weapon. The buck knife now constantly strapped to her waist had been plunged into the brain of only one Walker so far, but it was a moment that proved she could take the necessary action to defend herself and others if needed.

Carol inhaled the thick, suffocating air as she exited the RV and pursed her lips.

Fortunately for them, Walkers were not terribly amok around their new home, and it reminded her of the quarry pre-attack. People lived fairly comfortably, considering the circumstances, all the while keeping caution as top priority and togetherness as second.

As she made her way to the dining house the sweat had already broke onto her forehead. She was glad she had decided to have Lori clip her hair back down; longer locks were not for her, and the heat was simply unbearable.

The shade of the cabins provided some relief as the group gathered for breakfast. Various versions of 'good morning' were mumbled through tired smiles and Lori and Andrea had already begun to set out the old plastic plates as the half-sleeping hoard settled down together like the Brady Bunch.

Carol took her place near the end of one of the picnic tables, passing down the bent forks that needed desperate replacing. She smiled a bit at the food on her plate.

On their way they had managed to pick up more dehydrated eggs while scavenging, and, to her delight, several boxes of instant grits. They had rationed the traditional southern staple carefully, and this particular morning was instantly better as she prepared to eat.

Bending her head down just slightly, she closed her eyes and silently thanked God for what she and her surrogate family still had…

The rustle of clothes interrupted her prayer and she looked to her right to find Daryl settling onto the bench beside her, wasting no time in diving into his food. As she brought her own fork to her mouth she caught his gaze, and he offered a small nod as his way of a morning greeting.

A comfortable quiet settled the table as everyone took Daryl's example and the only sounds heard for several minutes were that of the silverware clanking and the odd gulps of people swallowing food. Now and again Sophie would coo against Carl's chest as he held her, and everyone at the table would look up at her at once.

The girl was something to behold. The little miracle of their apocalyptic world.

Carol caught Daryl watching the child as he ate, and she tried desperately to find his eyes amidst the scraggly bangs of his grown-out hair. She smiled at the sight of him continuously reaching up to try to brush the long hairs out of his face, only to have them immediately fall back down and elicit a grumbled curse from his lips.

He had done well to keep his facial hair decently trimmed, but Carol doubted he had the knack for cutting his own hair.

Those eyes of his finally met her own as he caught her staring and turned on her in an instant.

"What?" She was surprised to find his tone bereft of aggression or interrogation, the word spoken with what sounded like sheer curiosity.

But then, in the past few weeks they _had_ come to spend more time together; Daryl's presentation of the roses on Valentine's Day had re-opened a semi-comfortable rapport between them, and it seemed every day he became both more receptive of and more responsive to her. It seemed Sophia's ghost had finally let Daryl's anger fade…

She did not miss the growing frustration in his lip, however, as he looked at her and waited for her to explain her staring.

"Nothing, it's just….it might be time for a haircut, with the rising heat and all…"

She heard his neutral 'humph' as he turned away and finished his meal. She took his lack of a negative response to be something of an agreement and looked around the table.

Rick, Shane, Maggie and Glenn were all sporting lengthy hairstyles not usual for them, and she met Lori's gaze as they nodded to one another.

"Well, at least I know what I'll be doing today. Carl, you get to babysit while I cut hair." Lori's voice garnered the attention of the group and most of the men shared glances that proved their awareness of her intentions.

The group was at the mercy of Lori's scissors for the rest of the morning.

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><p>Daryl had stood just inside the RV, watching as Lori went to work cutting hair down by the dock. Carol had offered to help, as she too had a bit of experience with such things, but as of current, the group had only one pair of scissors to their name.<p>

And so, Carol had wandered towards the RV and the man standing in its doorway, intent on urging him to go ahead and have his hair cut while Lori was at it.

She had stopped short a few feet away, instantly recognizing the uncomfortable look on his face. He leaned against the doorframe causally, nibbling at his nails as he so loved to do, but his brows were bent down and his lips drawn tight, and she knew from his distant gaze that he did _not_ care for the idea of Lori Grimes snipping away at his hair.

One would think he simply did not want it cut at all; but Carol knew that he found it as necessary as the others. He just didn't like being touched.

She cleared her throat a bit to catch his attention, and caught his gaze as it snapped down to her.

"I could cut it for you if you want, after Lori finishes with the others. Shouldn't take long." She watched his face relax slightly, but the look in his eyes intensified.

Carol smiled as he nodded before retreating farther into the Winnebago.

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><p>The waters of the lake glistened in the sunlight overheard and the heat likewise made its presence known.<p>

Carol blinked up at it and chose to drag the lawn chair closer towards the nearby trees, trying to find a suitable balance between necessary light and unwelcome heat. Setting the unstable piece of metal and plastic down at an angle that caught the light just right, she looked up at the man hovering nearby. Daryl eyed her beneath his bangs and blinked at the chair, but did not hesitate to follow her silent request to sit.

Without ceremony she ran a comb through the thick, reddish-brown locks and pulled at only a few tangles in the process. As the sun hit his hair she could see the blond that intertwined with brown, the hidden flashes of red that weaved throughout. She smiled at how she herself could not name his hair color.

The man sat silent and rigid in the chair and Carol knew that it had probably been quite some time since he'd received an actual haircut by a person that was not his brother.

For a moment the image of Merle Dixon running a set of dog clippers across Daryl's scalp flashed through her mind, and she frowned before pushing it away and concentrating on pulling the bangs in her hand straight up to snip at them.

"I used to cut Sophia's hair like this. Ed didn't like the idea of her going to a cosmetologist. He thought she'd come home with hot-pink streaks or something…" She trailed when Daryl jerked his head to the right slightly at the mention of both her daughter and husband, and Carol swallowed the words like poison before running a hand through the cut locks of hair in way of silent apology.

She stepped back a fraction of an inch when he turned his head even more so, and she could see his eyes struggle to meet hers from his position in the chair.

Summoning the strength from days past fighting a young and restless Sophia in the 'hair-chair', Carol slowly reached forward to lay her fingers against the right side of Daryl's jaw and urge his face forward and straight.

She did not miss tightening flex of his facial muscles at the contact, nor the sudden inhale of breath that (just barely) hid a small, suspiciously whimper-like sound.

Sensing the discomfort in him growing, she opted to get to work on the mess of hair before her so the man it belonged to could take off and avoid any continued physical contact with her.

She frowned again at the feeling of sadness that threatened her at such thoughts, but ignored it as she severed strand after strand of thick hair.

"You boys definitely needed this. The heat's going to get rough soon. I'm glad I had Lori cut mine last week…."

A grunt was her response and Daryl's head leaned back slightly. Carol clipped faster and remembered to make an attempt at the short hairs near his neck line. As she neared a satisfactory length she set the scissors on his shoulder to run her hands through his hair, shaking out the excess and examining for mistakes. She instantly found a few and moved to retrieve the scissors, but not before steadying her hand just above the shoulder that she now realized was moving up and down heavily.

She watched as Daryl's back seemed to seize with his deep inhalations, and she snatched the scissors off of his shoulder before moving to rest her left hand on his head again.

The jerk she felt was accompanied by another grunt.

She watched him warily and continued to cut despite her concern.

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><p><strong>AN: Poor Daryl, with his sensitivities. ;) **

**Expect a more familiar aggression to return to our boy in coming chapters!**


	2. Group Zen Part 2

**Chapter Two! **

**First off, _thank you all_ for reading and reviewing! You equal awesome. **

**Hope you enjoy this; let me know how you feel!**

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><p>His lungs were frozen. His lips were tight. His fingers strummed on his knees and the muscles in his face twitched almost uncontrollably.<p>

The woman was trying to _kill_ him.

He just knew it.

Daryl had practically seized up the moment Carol dared to run her hands through his hair- and sure, he knew she was trying to get the loose stray strands out, but it was still far more touching than he'd expected.

And it felt like a lightning bolt had struck his spine.

He jumped a bit in the chair when her fingers skimmed his scalp again, and he knew by the way she sped up the cutting that she had noticed. His reaction was making her nervous. Or worried.

Or both.

Daryl chewed his lip and tried not to let another pathetic little whine escape his throat. After all, what kind of person freaked-the-fuck-out over having someone play with their hair?

_A __freak__, smart guy._

A growl rumbled when his lungs finally gave way to exhale, and Carol stopped cutting again. He sat rigid in the chair and waited for her to shock his system again: to resume whatever amazing magic-touching shit she seemed to have a talent for, to send his gut rolling again in a way that he couldn't quite bring himself to hate.

But she had stopped and backed away from the chair.

"Okay…done. I think this is as good as it's gonna get without a set of clippers for your neckline."

Daryl craned his neck back to watch her behind him, and caught the way she ran her eyes across his face with that all-too familiar look of concern in her eyes.

As if she was trying to figure him out. _Again_.

He stood from the chair and faced her; reached up to run a hand through his hair to gauge her handiwork, and found the length to be about what it was when he and Merle first joined the group at the quarry.

Carol stood fingering the scissors in her hands and she seemed to be waiting for his opinion.

Her eyes met his and she offered one of those quick little half-smiles before lowering her gaze.

Daryl felt his throat close when he realized she was staring at his mouth.

Was she waiting for him to say something?

Or…

His fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the lawn chair as he snatched it and began folding it up.

"I'll just…set this back by the RV."

He didn't give her chance to respond as he rushed past her, his face hot and head light.

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><p>"The ticks and chiggers are gonna be getting bad again soon; need to make sure everyone is careful in the woods, have them check themselves after…." Rick had been yapping for several minutes, relaying his concerns and plans for the onset of spring, and while Daryl listened, his mind was not entirely focused on the man's words.<p>

Hiking the crossbow upward to rest against his shoulder, he jumped a fallen limb and picked up the pace to catch up to Rick's retreating figure. They'd walked to the edge of the perimeter set to scout for walkers, the camp by now half-a-forest and a few fields away. Rick took lead as usual, and that was fine by him.

Daryl would admit by this point that the man was good at what he did; Rick was a natural leader and a good man at that….

The latter wasn't as important to him, but he figured it counted for something.

The edge of the park's grounds circled around back toward the campsite, and several old trails branched off in the woods to lead to different areas. He and Rick had followed the grown-over stone trail that led to the 'haunted' cabin at the other end of the park, checked it for walkers, and then headed down another toward the creek that had apparently been used for arrowhead hunting once upon a time.

Daryl eyed the soft flow of the water as they followed the creek back to the tree line.

He wondered if she'd care to come do such a thing with him…

"Daryl?"

His head snapped up and he found that Rick had already broken out into the field and was preparing to head back across the grounds. He could see Rick's hand raise the Python an inch, caution in his body language as he craned his head to seek Daryl out through the trees.

"I hear ya'; comin'."

Rick's shoulders relaxed and Daryl slung the crossbow over his own and moved faster to catch up again.

He ignored the relieved look on Rick's face as he brushed past him.

"Let's go. This heat's hell already."

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><p>They were halfway back when Daryl saw it.<p>

Rick was going on about something again, his daughter's name floating to Daryl's ears every two seconds and a laugh following nearly every time. Daryl was sure the fatherhood thing was special and all, but he really didn't give damn how many times the girl had smiled at Carl that day, or how strong a grip she had for a baby….

But Daryl didn't tell Rick that.

Figured it was easier to let the guy boast.

He froze when the flash of color and movement caught his eye, and Rick instantly lowered his own stance and pulled the Python back out, following Daryl's nod toward the trees on the opposite side of the field.

They crept closer, moved slow, and Daryl stepped in front of the other man as they recognized the human figure. The sight of the crossbow met his eye and he let it hover over the target for a few seconds as he closed in…

And then the short clipped hair and purple tank-top came into view.

"Dammit." Daryl lowered the bow in a flash of anger, jerking his head up to see Carol moving along the trees, head down and body crouched slightly as if looking for something.

Rick stepped forward and released a breath.

"Just Carol. What's she doing so far from camp alone?"

Daryl met the man's eyes and felt his lip curl.

"Don't know; she knows better than that shit."

_And he was about to remind her of that._

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><p>He watched her for a moment, hovering behind a tree out of her line of sight.<p>

Woman was a curiosity when she focused on something; her brows were furrowed and her mouth a tight line, fingers laced together and tapping the opposite knuckles as she searched the ground.

Daryl felt his spine stiffen again when her tongue shot out to run across her lips and she sighed at herself.

He was glad then that Rick had chosen to go on ahead to the camp, trusting him to bring Carol back safely.

He felt sure the man would have a prodding word or two to say about Daryl's spying.

She wasn't far from his hiding spot, and if she'd just turn and look in his direction, she'd surely spot him. But she had crouched to the forest floor by another tree and seemed to be busy with something.

Daryl caught the flash of white below her tank-top, the bottom edge rising above her jean-line and showing the skin of her back.

A bead of sweat broke onto his brow and he stepped out from behind the tree with a silent curse.

"What're you doin'?"

She jumped, coming very close to barreling backward onto her ass and he tried to maintain his scowl despite the amusement of it. She was, after all, being a fucking _idiot_ wandering about by herself.

He watched her compose herself, a hand flying to her chest and a knee landing in the dirt to steady her reeling body. She looked up at him and he towered over her with purpose.

"I was—"

"The hell you doin' out here _alone_? Drop your brain somewhere and forget to pick it up?"

She stood then, and he stepped back at the way she seemed to lean towards him. His harsh tone had no effect, and that was usual nowadays.

Woman had built a freaking forcefield against his insults and it both impressed him and drove him near crazy.

His gaze dropped to the hand she extended, palm up and open and he easily recognized what she held.

"Carl fell from the tire-swing not too long ago, skinned his elbow up. Lori washed it but I thought some aloe would help."

The thick, thorny leaves in her hand oozed a bit onto her skin, but her fingers closed around them and she shrugged at him.

"Now that I think about it, I should've just dug up the whole plant to bring back to the camp…"

Daryl watched her reach down with her free hand to brush the dirt from her jeans, turn the hand over to wipe the moisture from her brow, and straighten up to smile at him quietly.

He fidgeted under her stare and remembered to be angry at her.

"No one goes too far alone. You know that. Tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"I checked with Andrea before crossing into the tree line. She could still see me through the binoculars."

He blinked as she immediately rebutted him and he huffed.

She gave him that amused, curious look that he hated (but didn't) and he circled her halfway before invading her space deliberately.

"Pretty sure she cain't see you this far in. Don't be _stupid_. Kid don't need aloe; that's what _scabs_ are for." He tried then, so hard, not to raise his voice. It'd been some time since he last lashed out at her, and damned if he didn't regret it to hell and back.

But he'd growled, and she'd heard it, and she still smiled at him like the whole conversation was one big joke.

Teeth sank into his lip and he stepped closer, the heat of her skin hitting his own as he breathed into her face:

"You even think to bring a weapon?"

The sound of a knife being unsheathed had him looking down to find the metal blade glinting in the sunlight that fought through the trees, and he bit back his smirk.

It was _his_ pocket knife, and he'd given it to her not long after they'd settled in the camp.

Never seen her strap it to her hip, though; but then, he'd never really thought to _look_ at those hips before…

Carol slid the blade back into its sheath and looked out towards the field.

"We should get back, so I can get this aloe to Carl."

He hadn't moved back from his closeness to her, and he watched as the muscles in her face moved with her jaw. Her eyes flickered to his and he took a step away to let her breathe.

Raising his eyes to the forest ceiling, he gauged the time of day and realized midday had just passed. The heat would get worse before getting better, and they ought to head back to camp beforehand.

Daryl looked back to the direction he and Rick had trekked from and his mouth made a decision before his brain could:

"You said you wanted to get a whole plant to take back, right? Come on; boy's skint elbow can wait a few more minutes."

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><p>He could feel her hesitation the entire time they walked, the tension in the air as she took her time and continuously looked back toward the camp.<p>

Damn woman was too motherly, too fixated on taking care of everyone; the idea of doing something for herself was obviously nerve-wracking to her. Daryl stopped as he neared the creek and turned on her.

"Carl tear his arm clean open?"

She was watching the edge of the trees again when he snapped, and her eyes were wide when they met his.

"What? No…"

"Then stop fidgeting. He ain't dyin'."

"I know, it's just—"

"Just nothin'. Relax, will you? There're a few aloe plants near the creek here. We'll dig one up and be back in time for you to play doctor."

She smiled at him then, and Daryl ducked his head away from the sight.

_Stop smiling when I snap at you, woman. Just ain't right._

The creek came into view and they broke off the trail onto the dirty forest floor, and Daryl scanned the ground with trained eyes. He remembered seeing some of those plants near the trail as he and Rick had checked the area, but for the life of him he couldn't pinpoint their location again.

"Damn. They may have been farther up the creek side." He mumbled to himself more than to her, but when she responded with a hum of acknowledgement to show she'd heard him, he stopped to turn back to her again.

"See that old sign down there?" He gestured past her to a bend in the creek, where a leaning wooden post was set up by the trail.

"Yeah?"

"Says the creek is full of arrowheads. Or it was, anyway. Don't know if folks had dug em' all out before everything ended…"

His change of subject wasn't on a whim; Carol relaxed and looked down at the creek curiously, and Daryl felt his chest tighten and his lip quirk in his victory.

As she leaned over the bank to stare into the water, she made another humming sound and glanced over at him.

"Maybe we could look for some next time…"

Daryl's lungs seized up again.

He nodded with a short grunt and turned away before she could see him smile.

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><p>The grass in the fields was growing high quickly, and Daryl glanced back at her without breaking stride.<p>

"Watch your feet; snakes are probably hiding from the sun right now, but I wouldn't take chances."

The woman behind him shifted the small plant in her arms and bent her head down to scan the ground as she walked.

The sun was trying to lean to the west now, late afternoon on the way and they still had a field-and-a-half to go. It would have been easier to follow one of the forest trails back to camp, he knew, but it was safer to cross the open space where they could be spotted by whoever was watching them through the rifle scope on the RV.

A cooler wind blew through the grass and Daryl inhaled the familiar smells of the wild, his body naturally calming as a result and his grip on the crossbow loosening just slightly. A sigh escaped behind him and his step faltered at the blissful sound.

"It's nice out here. You can smell the flowers."

His smile was hidden but he let it come.

"….Yeah."

A sudden gasp was her response, and the moment was destroyed by the fear he heard in it.

Daryl whipped around to find Carol staring at something to her right, and his hands clenched the bow tight as he followed her pointing finger.

A figure trudged and stumbled across the grass towards them, balance practically non-existent, arms flailing loosely at the sides.

Walker.

He took aim quickly, and Carol stepped farther back to give him space.

Its head was in his sight and his finger tightened on the trigger…

And then an arm shot up at them.

"Don't shoot!"

_The hell?_

The man disappeared suddenly and Daryl realized he'd collapsed into the grass.

Crossbow raised and ready, he approached the fallen figure quickly but cautiously. He wasn't the type of person to put it past a man to fake something like this in order to ambush them….

The man was still moving when they reached his side, and he heard Carol whisper God's name to herself at the sight of him.

Clothes and skin dirty and torn, the guy looked like he'd been crawling through briar patches for days. Brown hair, speckled with grey, stuck to his sweaty forehead and equally brown eyes fought focus on them as they leaned over his body.

A hand raised in a pathetic attempt at defense.

"Please don't…"

Daryl felt Carol's warmth beside him and instantly shot his arm out to usher her behind his back.

Growling his words he shoved the bolt into the man's face and demanded,

"You bit?"

The figure licked his split dry lips and shook his head.

Not enough.

"_Answer me_, asshole. Are you _bit_? Tell me before I let this bolt loose in your eye!"

"No, no—I'm not bitten, I swear. Please…I've been runnin' for days, I just need—", the slurred words went silent as his eyes rolled back into his head and the man proceeded to pass out in the middle of the field.

Daryl allowed the bolt to hover over the unconscious man's head for a few seconds, considering his options. It'd be so much easier to just pull the trigger and get rid of the stranger without making a fuss about it….

Movement stirred behind him and he watched as Carol stepped into the line of fire, crouching to lean over the man's limp body.

He jerked the bow away and glared down at her as she laid one hand on the guy's forehead, dropping the aloe plant to lift her other to lay over his heart.

"I don't see any blood."

_I can fix that._

"I think he was telling the truth; he doesn't seem bit."

_Don't know that for _sure_, woman._

"Daryl…."

_Jesus, don't say it…_

"…he needs help. We should get Rick."

_God. __Dammit__._


	3. Southern Charm

**And BAM! This fic is getting to be so much fun. ^.^**

**Here's an intro to the New Guy. His name, background and demeanor are all products of my imagination. *gasp* I can OWN him! **

**Don't own the cities mentioned in this chapter, however. I suppose those belong to the great state of Alabama.**

**R&R, please?**

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><p>She didn't expect to actually <em>play doctor<em>.

Carl's injured elbow took a backseat as Daryl and Rick dragged the newcomer into one of the larger cabins, opened every wood-paneled window to allow the sunlight through, illuminating the man's features and giving them complete knowledge if his every scratch, scab and bruise.

She watched Glenn and Shane drag a bed to the center of the cabin, watched as Rick and Daryl all but tossed the unconscious man onto it.

Watched as Rick and Shane bickered in the corner like emotionally strained newlyweds before Rick convinced the other man to leave the building.

Glenn stepped away as Daryl leaned in close and proceeded to push the guy's shirt up, scanning his skin, rolling his limp body over, patting his legs and fishing out a single pocket knife before turning the man over to the group's leader.

Rick in turn nodded her over, placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder and said:

"Man looks beaten to hell and back. Could you clean these cuts? We're gonna be asking him questions when he wakes up, but it's no reason not to be humane here…"

Carol heard Daryl's grunt in the background but focused on Rick's pleading and uncertain face.

"Sure…"

She turned to leave the cabin and fetch the necessary water and rags, all-too aware of the shadow that hovered at the building's entrance and watched her as she departed.

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><p>He had tried to turn her away from the cabin when night began to fall, but she'd brushed past him anyway and entered aside Andrea, unafraid (for some unknown reason) of the man that was now lying rigid and apprehensive on the bed, eyes wide open but glossy, pupils darting around the room at the people that surrounded him.<p>

She felt Daryl's presence behind her as she neared the bed and stood to the side to give him room. He brushed past her in silence, coming to stand next to Rick who sat in a chair at the man's right side.

She did not miss the blade at his waist, or the gun in his hand.

Carol shook her head and focused on the stranger in the room as Rick began to ask questions.

"What's your name?"

"Mike Radford."

Carol picked up on the lessened drawl in his voice, and knew immediately that not only was he most likely an inhabitant of a larger city, but he was also probably well educated.

She caught Rick's slow nod and calm demeanor. It clashed very noticeably with the stiff, untrusting stance of the man standing next to him.

She was glad, for 'Mike's' sake, that Rick was keeping a level head.

"Where are you from?" Carol saw the flutter in the man's eyes at the question, as if his brain was trying to process it and failing. Dark circles showed his exhaustion; small splits in his lips were evidence of his being weather-worn.

He licked those lips and his head rolled slightly.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it:

"Give him some water? The man looks parched."

Daryl jerked his head in her direction with an uneasy look of surprise before his eyes narrowed and one of them twitched. Carol stood firm and shot a pleading look to Rick, who nodded in response.

"Of course."

A bottle was immediately thrust into Mike's hand by Andrea, and Carol watched as he unscrewed the top with shaky hands and proceeded to down the liquid to the point of nearly choking on it.

He sputtered before wiping his mouth and stopped to pin his dark eyes on her.

"Thank you. I can't remember the last time I had clean water…"

Under the weight of the man's soft gaze she broke eye contact, fighting the small smile that threatened her lips. She felt a foolish flush in her cheeks, and yet did not regret speaking out on the stranger's behalf.

The deep, scratchy drawl of Daryl Dixon lashed out as his body moved forward towards the bed:

"He asked you a _question_, asshole. Where'd you come from?"

Her view of Mike was suddenly blocked by Daryl's back, but she made no attempt to leave her spot in the cabin.

She was just as curious about the man as anyone…

"Originally, I'm from Tuscaloosa. Went to the university there. You guys from Alabama? It's a big college town, you know…" His words were slightly slurred and Carol could tell he was just coherent enough to answer them. She listened from behind Daryl as he rambled off for a moment about the famed football program in the state.

She heard him laugh at himself and felt her smile threaten again.

And then Daryl's blade left its sheath with his growled persuasion to get back on topic.

Mike's voice suddenly took a different tone, quiet and soft and sad. It cracked when he spoke, so slight that she wondered if anyone else heard it:

"I lived in the capital. Montgomery? When everything happened, I tried to get out, with my daughter and sister but…." Silence deadened the room and Carol finally moved to lean to the side, craning her head to seek out his face.

She just caught his left eye as it lowered to stare at the half-empty bottle in his hands.

"My sister was taken on the interstate. We were trying to get to a nearby city, Prattville; my wife—she'd died before it all…breast cancer- her family lives there….we made it, my daughter and me. But Prattville was being overrun too, the more people from Montgomery tried to get away…we found them, my brother-in-law and his wife and kids, and tried to keep going. We just kept moving, you know? But every populated area we came to…they were everywhere. They're everywhere…"

Carol felt her chest tighten, and a hand flew up to grip the cross that dangled from her neck. Mike's head sank into the pillow he closed his eyes, his eyebrows lowering and his lips thinning.

Rick's voice was clear but quiet:

"Your family? Where are they now?"

A few more moments of silence passed before Mike's broken whisper froze the cabin cold.

"Gone."

Carol stepped away from Daryl's back and left the men to continue their questioning.

* * *

><p>She volunteered to bring him dinner.<p>

He was sitting up in the bed when she opened the door, and she cast an assuring glance to Andrea, who stood armed at the entrance.

She knew the group's caution was merited; they didn't know this stranger, and after all this time living on the park grounds alone, their little family had suddenly been intruded by an outsider. It was natural to be suspicious.

But Carol felt that the malnourished, dehydrated man that called himself 'Mike' was not there to threaten anyone.

He was just there.

He offered a small nod when she walked in, attempted to sit up higher.

She was at his bedside in an instant, setting the plate of chilling food on the chair Rick had used and fishing another bottle of water out of her self-named 'runaway bag'. Her gaze landed on the tawny dark hair of his chest and she realized suddenly that his shirt was still drying on the clothes line by the cabin.

She tore her eyes from the exposed skin and thrust the bottle towards him.

"Here; you probably need as much of this as you can get. Brought some food too…it's not much but—"

"Thank you; you're very kind…"

He looked her in the eyes again, holding her in those dark orbs before shifting them to the plate. Carol recognized the sudden look of hunger in his eyes and moved to hand him the food.

She backed away from the bed as quickly as she'd approached it, intent on leaving him to eat and sending Andrea in to retrieve his empty plate.

His voice stopped her as she turned.

"What's your name?"

"Ah….Carol." _And when exactly did she start forgetting her own name?_

"Would you happen to know where my shirt is, Carol?"

_I took it off of you to clean the cuts on your stomach…_

"Outside, drying; I washed it….I can do the rest in the morning. I'm sure Rick will give you some spare clothes to wear in the meantime."

She heard Mike swallow a bite of food and turned back to face him despite herself.

He smiled at her again, lifted the bottle of water in her direction.

"Looks like I'll be makin' a habit of thanking you for things."

* * *

><p>Andrea was eyeing the door when she made to leave.<p>

"You two have a nice conversation?"

Carol felt her cheeks warm up again and felt a sudden rush of shame.

"Oh…um—"

"I'll get his plate from him later. Seems a harmless enough guy."

Andrea shrugged then, leaned casually against the wooden door and let the shotgun in her hand dangle loosely at her side. Carol watched as she gave a jerk of her head towards the RV, and turned to follow the motion.

Even in the consuming darkness of night, she could tell it was Daryl atop the Winnebago, rifle in hand.

His head did not move from its direction facing the cabin when she strode underneath his gaze and entered the vehicle to go to bed.

She felt she would need her rest for the days to come.


	4. Zen, Interrupted

**Thanks again, guys, for the awesome reviews! **

**Here's another Daryl-chapter; it's a bit short, but I'm notorious for such things.**

**Hope yall enjoy!**

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><p>He was placed as cabin guard the next morning, and Rick offered not a word to him as Daryl relieved him of the duty. They nodded in silence and Daryl accepted the little chore with a grunt of disdain.<p>

He wouldn't complain, however.

He never did.

* * *

><p>The smell of breakfast cooking made his stomach growl and he came close to telling it to shut up out loud. He watched as Dale climbed halfway down the ladder of the RV to take the plate that Carol handed up to him.<p>

He watched her start back to the fire to scoop more eggs into a half-cracked bowl.

And then watched her turn to head his way.

Another growl rumbled and he glared down at his abdomen, suddenly regretting the fact that he'd skipped dinner the previous night.

He just hadn't been hungry.

And keeping an eye on the new guy's cabin had been far more important.

Carol smiled at him as she approached, and he felt the urge to offer her a "Good Morning" for some dumbass reason. He settled instead for jerking his head at her and peering down at the bowl.

"Morning." She whispered, sounding strangely meek, but he figured she didn't want to wake the man that was probably still asleep in the building he leaned against.

He felt his lips pull upward and his stomach growled again.

And then she opened the door to the cabin and walked in with not another word.

Daryl blinked and gripped the gun in his hand tight.

Another growl.

"Shut the _fuck_ up, stomach."

* * *

><p>He was relieved when she exited the cabin just a few seconds later.<p>

And he didn't even know why.

Glenn was heading their way to take over guard duty and Daryl was grateful for the opportunity to eat.

And to go out and hunt something down.

He thrust the gun into Glenn's hand as he passed, ignoring the confused look on the boy's face and rushing to catch up to Carol's retreating back. His fingers found her elbow before he even thought about the fact that he was grabbing for it.

"Hey." The gruff tone in his voice was harsh and she jumped, the muscles in her arm flinching under his hand. He chewed at his lip at the quick jolt of fear he'd caused her but brushed it aside to meet her concerned eyes.

"What?"

Jerking his head toward the path they'd just come from, he lowered his voice to prevent the nearby Shane and Andrea from eavesdropping.

"You oughta' let someone else bring him lunch."

Her lips pursed and she followed his head movement before a look of understanding dawned on her.

And then she looked at him with what he recognized as disappointment.

"Why?" She asked it in such an oblivious and innocent way, but Daryl knew better. She was challenging him because she thought he was being childish.

She didn't _get it_.

He leaned in closer to her face, felt her breath on his lips again and fought an urge to lick them instinctively.

"I don't want him thinkin' he's got _friends_ already. We don't know this guy. _You _don't know him." He growled the words, which, as usual, garnered a whole lot of nothing as far as a reaction from the woman.

When the hell did she get _used_ to him like this?

Instead, Daryl watched with narrowing eyes as Carol licked her own lips and her eyes flickered down at his, and the look she'd given him after his haircut the day before crossed her face for a moment before she pulled away from him and looked down at his hand on her arm.

He let go immediately, content to ignore the feeling of loss that struck him at the lack of softness under his fingers.

Carol smiled at him, soft and sad.

"He's hurt, Daryl. Exhausted and starving and alone. I don't think he's planning on hurting anyone…"

She walked away, and he let her.

He didn't know what to say to the look of compassion in her eyes anyway…

* * *

><p>Two days later, and they were letting the man walk around like he owned the place. A guard on the RV and an escort around the grounds was <em>not<em> enough for Daryl's comfort level.

He stood just inside the doorway to the Winnebago, watching as Andrea hovered behind the stranger, gun tucked away in her pants as if she wasn't really expecting any problems from the guy. 'Mike' strode past and offered him a hesitant wave.

Daryl fought the urge to flick the man off in response.

In the distance he could make out Shane coming back from a patrol, shotgun in hand, machete strapped to his waist. The ex-cop glared at Mike at he passed, and Daryl could see the tension in his body language.

If it were up to Shane, Daryl knew the stranger would most likely have his blood spilling over the dock into the lake, a bullet in his head and a shallow grave waiting to take the rest of him.

He watched as Carol approached Andrea and said something to her before moving to step in pace beside the newcomer as the three of them walked the edge of the lake.

He caught Mike's subtle smile as the man looked Carol over.

Daryl had never wanted to promote a Shane Walsh idea so badly in his time with the group as he did in that moment.

He backed away into the RV to grab his crossbow.

Somewhere out in the woods that surrounded them, an animal was waiting to meet its end.

* * *

><p>He'd stayed away from the camp the entire day: killed every squirrel he spotted, a hare on his way back, and even considered firing a bolt through the bullfrog that hopped towards the lake as he'd walked along its bank.<p>

He'd cleaned his kills alone in the dimming light of the setting sun; brushed off Dale's offer to help him.

He hadn't asked the old man about Carol or Rick or Mike.

But he had felt a small weight lift from his chest as he had spotted T-Dog guarding the man's cabin. He felt better knowing Rick had not given the guy free range just yet.

The RV was black as pitch when he climbed in, his hair damp from a quick wash in the lake. The ceiling shifted above him, Dale moving in his chair atop the vehicle. The floor creaked under his boots and he settled onto the cushion at the table to untie and pull them off. He kicked them under the table, stood to push his jeans down to his ankles and shove them under as well.

The RV was warm, its windows cracked open to let the night breeze through. His skin was sticky with the humidity already, however, and he stood stiffly in place to ponder whether or not to remove his shirt.

He'd tried in the past to keep as much clothing on as possible while he slept; it was more practical that way, in the instance of a Walker attack….

And he was uneasy about the prospect of Carol waking up to find him practically naked on the floor beneath her.

His fingers fidgeted with the hem of the shirt and he squinted in the darkness to find Carol's sleeping form in the back bed. It wasn't that she hadn't seen him bare before; he knew she'd spotted his exposed skin that night in Hershel's farmhouse after the arrow-slash-gunshot incident. And hell…they were fucking _adults_, after all…

He peeled the shirt from his chest and maneuvered toward Carol's bedside, finding his pillow waiting at its usual spot on the floor just next to her.

He set the shirt beside his head and stared into the darkness of the ceiling.

Movement in the bed above him had him jerking to attention, and the shadowy form of Carol's head leaning over the side to look down at him took shape as his eyes adjusted.

"I was wondering when you'd come in."

The lack of sleep in her voice told him she'd stayed awake.

And waited for him.

Daryl rolled over, away from the bed, and pressed his face into the sweat-stinking shirt.

"Goodnight, Daryl."

He licked his lips and forced the image of her smile out of his head.

"'Night."


	5. The Color of Envy

**Chappy Five! **

**Hope you guys are enjoying things so far; more Daryl/Carol interaction to come soon!**

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><p>It was the low rumble of thunder that woke her.<p>

The metallic patter of raindrops on the roof of the RV grew more rapid and Carol peered over at the small window to find the grey-yellow light of dawn just peeking through. She sat up at the hum of the Winnebago's electric systems being turned on, and craned her head to find Dale in the front seat.

He looked back at her and motioned to the windows:

"Just rolling them back up; don't want to get the seats wet."

Flopping back down in the haze of half-sleep, she cradled the pillow against her face and sighed at the lulling sounds of rain and distant thunder.

And then re-opened her eyes at the sound of a body shifting just below her.

It wasn't usual for Daryl to still be asleep past daybreak; even on the occasion of rain (which she suspected would be gaining frequency with springtime moving in), he was known to take off to hunt or scout or take watch. He was certainly _not_ known to sleep in.

Carol angled her head over the side of the bed and looked down at him.

Curled in a half-ball and clenching what looked to be his shirt, he snored lightly with every other exhale and his right foot shifted restlessly every few seconds. She smiled down at the sight, the urge to reach down and run a hand though that mop of dark hair again pulling her body further from the bed.

And then she realized, as the sleep wore away from her mind, that he was almost completely naked.

A worn pair of hunter-green boxers hung low on his hips and Carol stared at the curve of his backside as he curled his legs upward. She swallowed thickly, bit her bottom lip…

In an instant she pulled away from her suspension over him, throwing herself flat against the bed and refocusing on the rain outside the window.

She found that the thunderstorm had suddenly lost its calming effect.

* * *

><p>Laundry detail was always a constant in the warmer months.<p>

Everyone, man, woman and child alike, stripped sweaty clothes from their sticky bodies every evening to replace them with drier alternatives. Some chose sleepwear. Others slept in day clothes, ready to jump to the nearest weapon in the middle of the night.

Shirts and jeans, slacks and socks, bras and boxers; Carol scrubbed them all.

But someone had to do it.

She'd never complained before, and she had no reason to now. If she could do this _one_ little thing to help provide a normal comfort to their little mismatched family, she felt she was doing something purposeful with what was left of her life.

She smiled and rinsed the cloth in her hands, paying no attention to what it was or who it belonged to….

"_That's_ where my underwear went."

Carol felt her fingers clench the wet fabric in her hands and she turned to face the man standing behind her.

Mike stood peering over her shoulder, one hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously and a rather shy grin ghosting through the bristle growing on his face. Without thinking she looked him over, his words echoing in her head and she found his free hand fiddling with the edge of his jeans.

Her face rushed with heat and she whipped away from him, hands working to wring out the underwear as quickly as possible.

_His underwear._

"Oh, right. Um…I washed them." _Apparently._ "They need to dry…"

She did not look at him as he walked from behind her, coming to crouch down at her right side and eyeing her face for a moment before looking at the bundle of clothes at her feet.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Nothing worse than dirty undies, right?"

She willed the heat in her cheeks away and smiled at his humor.

As she finished wringing _his_ underwear out she finally turned her head to meet his eyes. He grinned at her softly, balancing on his heels and looking much better than he had three days prior.

She could only nod at his joke, words fumbling in her head under the weight of his kind gaze.

"So, you need some help with this?"

She blinked at him.

"What?"

"The laundry. You usually do it all yourself?"

"Oh…no, not always. I just thought I'd get a jump start on it today…"

He slipped forward to his knees and reached to take the article of clothing from her grasp.

"I'll help get the ball rollin'. Seems everyone else has a chore to do today; no sense in me just sitting around."

Carol breathed deep and nodded, eyes darting across the lake briefly before returning to find Mike's dark orbs still watching her.

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>He was quiet while they worked, but not uncomfortably so.<p>

It was only when she led him to the clothes line that stretched from the dining cabin to Rick and Lori's adjacent one that he began to strike up conversation again.

He grinned at her sheepishly from the other side of the line as he hung his own underwear up to dry, reaching down to the basket at their feet to grab a shirt from the damp pile.

"I used to do this when I was a kid. Stand at my mom's feet and hand clothes up to her…" His voice was quiet and distant, but he kept eye contact to show that he meant for her to hear him. "Tried to climb one of the line poles once to hang her apron up myself; was on my way to the ER with a split eyebrow a few minutes later."

He laughed and she chuckled along with him. She would admit the man had a contagious knack for humor.

Standing directly across from her, he leaned over the line and pointed to his left eye.

"See that scar? I stopped climbing trees after that, too."

Carol studied the tiny line of missing eyebrow at the corner of his eye before leaning away to replace distance between them. She did not miss the way his forehead creased momentarily.

"I've never had a problem doing things like this; my wife…she worked long hours as a nurse. I was home more often. That usually left me with the housework."

As he continued to talk Carol realized she had barely spoken a word to him. If it bothered the man, he certainly did not make any attempt to let her know.

She listened as he whistled something, a tune she could not place, watched as he hung clothes straight and almost meticulously. She swallowed hard when he began folding a pair of Daryl's jeans over the line.

He found her gaze again and motioned around them.

"It's nice not to have a shadow standing behind me all day."

Carol blinked and looked around, realizing for the first time that day that indeed, no one was guarding the newcomer as they had before.

"But I get it. Rick said you guys had been here since last fall. It's just you and the people you know- the people you trust, and suddenly some random stranger comes stumbling out of the woods?" Carol fought her instinct to jump when Mike reached forward to lay a hand on her own as she hung one of Glenn's shirts. "Sorry by the way; I didn't mean to scare you out there."

His hand was warm over hers and she stared at it, bewildered at how comfortable she felt around this man.

"It's fine."

The hand pulled away and Carol shifted back a step, her eyes again darting around the camp without her really knowing why.

"I'm gonna have to thank Rick for his kindness. These days, not everyone is willing to help out a stranger."

"He's a good man; he's always trying to do right by people..."

"I can tell," Mike paused and nodded toward the lake where Shane and Andrea were returning from a perimeter check, "but I don't think everyone is as comfortable with my being here as you and Rick…"

Carol caught the glare Shane sent their way, his arm moving to heft the shotgun over his shoulder as he stomped toward his cabin.

Mike hung the last piece of clothing and picked up the basket, awaiting her direction as to where to place it. He scratched his head again and smiled.

"I really am grateful, Carol. You've been too kind…"

She could not help but smile back, her head ducking slightly at the appreciative tone in his voice.

"It's not a problem."

"And I'm especially grateful your friend decided _not _to shoot me with his crossbow."

Carol jerked her head up to look at the grin on his face.

She did not tell him that if she hadn't moved to put herself between them, Daryl probably _would_ have let that bolt loose.

Instead she motioned for him to follow her to the old recreational building that was now being used for random storage.

She glanced back at him as they walked past the dining cabin.

"Will you be eating with us tonight?"

Mike shrugged in response.

"I don't know; can I?"

"I don't see why not…"

* * *

><p>It was in that very cabin that the realization of the situation hit her in full.<p>

Tense was not the word to describe the room. It was simply not strong enough.

Rick for his part was courteous as Mike entered behind Dale, handing him a plate and telling him to take a seat wherever he'd prefer.

Carol should have expected him to walk the length of table, past the few empty spots where certain group members gave each other space, and come to a stop at her side.

"May I?"

Looking down at the empty spot to her right, she glanced about to find its usual occupier missing from the room and felt it to be horrible of her to tell him he could not sit in a spot that was obviously open.

"Sure."

Mike offered an appreciative smile as he settled next to her.

As was her custom she bowed her head to pray, although if she were absolutely honest with herself, she wasn't quite certain if God wanted anything to do with their decimated world anymore. But she prayed still: she prayed for the life of Lori's thriving infant, prayed for safety for the group, prayed for plentiful food and the strength to continue on in the face of so much horror.

If God was listening, He knew she prayed for Daryl to come back from his daily hunt safe and victorious.

Carol opened her eyes to eat.

And found the hunter himself looming at the end of the table, staring down at her.

_Glaring. Not staring._

She met the intense look of confusion and hurt and smoldering anger as his eyes flickered to the man sitting in his spot before boring into her with the force of a sledgehammer.

She could do nothing but offer a wary smile and helpless shrug.

Daryl's teeth flashed as they let loose on his bottom lip and he came very close to tossing his plate onto the table in front of her own, moving back to sit directly across from her instead.

An awkward silence filled the table as everyone ate in relative discomfort. Some Carol knew were simply uneasy about having a stranger in their midst, unsure of what to say to or in front of him.

Others were probably trying to finish their meals as quickly as possible to leave the nerve-charged room and retire to sleep.

Mike himself shifted several times in place, pausing in between bites to glance around at the people who had reluctantly taken him in.

Carol found his attention briefly and he smiled down at her.

A sharp exhale reached her ears from across the table and she looked up to find the deadpan glare in Daryl's blue-green eyes focused on Mike instead of her…

And suddenly it was clear.

As they continued to eat their meals in utter silence, Carol watched the man in front of her as subtly as she could.

She swore that with every bite of food he shoved into his mouth, those eyes grew more and more green.


	6. Intervention

**Hey folks! **

**Here's a little change of perspective for yall'. Hope you enjoy the new insight on this little love triangle.**

**Also: Let it be known that Alamo Girl, in all her glorious amazing awesomness, helped write a few of the scenes for this chapter. She is made of WIN and should be given an award or something.**

**Reviews make me giddy. And you guys are so epic for your support; thanks as always!**

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><p>He would be the first one to attest to Dale's ridiculous powers of observation.<p>

But the wise, big-hearted old-timer wasn't the only one who noticed things.

Rick watched from his family's cabin as the sun rose over the trees, flashes of orange and yellow and pink splashing into the sky around the big bright orb. The stars faded away above their heads, giving way to the beautiful blue that would see them through the day.

He watched as T-Dog wandered back to the building he now had to share with both Dale and their new guest. Dale in turn headed out of the cabin, setting up to take morning watch.

He offered Dale a wave as the man settled into his chair and picked up the binoculars.

The door to the RV swung open and neither man reacted with surprise. Daryl was always one of the first to begin moving about in the early hours, a mission to provide nourishment to the group always on his priority list. Rick admired the man for his strength, his intellect, his skill and his loyalty.

It was one of the reasons he looked to Daryl before many of the others when seeking advice.

But Daryl was not always the most level-headed of men, Rick knew. His temper could be something to fear, the resulting violence an absolute terror. He was a man of the wilds by habit and nature, and in Daryl was the tendency to behave much like an animal.

Rick watched as Daryl slung his beloved crossbow over his shoulder and closed the door to the Winnebago much more softly than he'd opened it.

Daryl was also a man.

And those elements that made Daryl Dixon who he was were now beginning to define him in a completely different way.

Rick saw it.

He saw how Daryl set out towards the forest with a huff on his lips and a glare in his eye, and he saw how that glare was immediately set on the cabin T-Dog had just entered.

Rick saw the snarl curl in the man's mouth, and met Daryl's glare as it was suddenly set on _him_.

As if he was giving him the finger without moving his hands.

Because Rick knew that it was not T-Dog that garnered Daryl's hateful glower and neither was it Dale. The newest member of the group had flicked a switch in Rick's fierce friend and it had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was a stranger. He watched the man stomp away from the camp and could not help but shake his head and smile.

He considered warning Mike about the danger he was getting himself into.

But he figured he'd give Carol a chance to set things straight first.

* * *

><p>It was mid-morning when Daryl returned.<p>

Rick had taken watch; since they'd become sedentary nearly every member of the group now had a responsibility to take their turn atop the large vehicle, and he was no exception. He spent the first few minutes scanning the fields beyond the lake, the forest's edge beyond that. Nothing moved aside from grass in the wind.

His attention had been pulled away for a brief time by the sight of Lori and Carl walking along the stone paths between the cabins with Sophie in tow, enjoying the sunlight and introducing the baby to the outdoors. Carl kept a hand close to the pistol tucked away in his jeans, and Rick smiled at the sight of his son growing so mature.

He and Lori exchanged looks before he resumed his duty and peered back through the binoculars.

He caught sight of Daryl immediately, crossing the field with a fairly large animal slung over his shoulder. His walk was brisk and determined, and even from the distance between them Rick could see the way his lips were pursed tight.

Rick pulled the binoculars away and scanned the campsite. As Daryl met the lake and began circling it towards them, he could see the direction the man intended to take.

He sat a bit straighter in the chair and watched, prepared to move if (when) needed.

Carol, Glenn, Maggie and Mike stood around one of the picnic tables nearby, talking among themselves. While Rick was glad that their newcomer was getting along with the majority of the group, he was wary of the man's obvious desire to be friendly toward all.

Because not everyone was willing to _accept_ his gesture of friendship.

Rick leaned forward as Daryl approached the group, and could see by this point that the animal he'd killed was one they had never been graced with before: a wild pig. He smiled.

If everyone survived the afternoon, they'd have a Bar-B-Que.

Daryl broke in between Glenn and Maggie, coming to stand in front of Mike and Carol with a sneer on his lips and a board-straight spine.

Rick watched as he proceeded to slam the pig down onto the table before them, whip out his knife, and begin slicing holes into its legs to string up and clean. The group was not far from the RV and Rick heard Mike's voice:

"Wow. That's a beauty. Nice kill."

He sighed and stood up on the RV, his newly-formed 'Daryl-rage' sixth sense tingling.

Daryl seemed to ignore the man's gesture.

Glenn and Maggie began to wander away. He was glad they were smart enough to read the signs as well.

Carol stood arms crossed, eyes flickering from one man to the other, a look of apprehension on her face. Rick knew that she had some gist of what was happening, and wondered if the normally passive woman would do anything about the situation.

He was already reaching to climb down the ladder when he heard Mike try again:

"You need help cleaning that thing?"

_Damn._

Daryl's response came as a growl and Rick rushed to the ground to intervene…

"I don't need _nothin'_ from you."

He was crossing the grass towards them and despite the possible severity of the moment, he still could not fight a grin.

"It'd be faster; four hands, you know…"

"You'd best walk away. _Now_."

Rick shook his head and read the underlying message in Daryl's words:

_Walk away from __her__._

Carol had stepped in front of Mike and the gesture did nothing to cool Daryl's temper. By the time Rick reached them, Daryl's fists were beginning to ball…

He nudged Mike's arm as he stepped up behind him.

"Hey. Help me out? I need someone to take watch while I give Lori a break with the baby."

Mike glanced at Daryl and Carol hesitantly before nodding at him.

"Sure. Happy to help."

Rick met Daryl's eyes for a moment before turning to lead Mike away. He hoped the man caught his silent message and would let the matter pass.

* * *

><p>Late afternoon was approaching and the pig had been on the fire for over an hour. The smell was enough to draw the entire group together around it for the first time since Christmas.<p>

Rick was not fool enough to think that everyone in the group considered each other family, although they often acted as such. Andrea spent more of her time with Shane than anyone. Shane avoided human contact as much as possible. When Maggie was not with Glenn she was spending time with Lori and Sophie and Carl…

T-Dog and Dale hovered like sentinels at all times.

It was rare for the lot of them to come together like this.

But Rick loved it when they did.

Everyone stood around the fire and talked about the prospect of eating something from the world past; Dale of course had a Bar-B-Que recipe to reminisce about, and laughter ensued as T-Dog complained about his growling stomach.

Rick noted Daryl hovering away from the rest of them, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for the man to do so. He was not the 'huddle around the fire' kind of guy.

But this afternoon Daryl was a bit closer than normal, standing not far behind Carol as she sat on one of the logs and looked around and smiled at the conversation taking place. Mike was situated next to Glenn not far from her. Daryl's head moved to glance over at the man several times and Rick decided enough was enough.

He caught Daryl's attention with a curt nod and headed back towards the RV.

They had reached the other side of the vehicle when Daryl spoke up.

"What?"

"I just want to make sure you're not planning on killing the man in his sleep."

Daryl glanced around and crossed his arms, his eye twitching in confusion.

"Kill who?"

"Don't play dumb, Daryl. Earlier today you came dangerously close to knocking Mike's head off his shoulders. I saw it coming. That's why I stepped in."

"So?"

"So….tell me. What's your problem?"

Rick leaned against the side of the RV and watched as Daryl's body language tensed, and one of his hands raised to his mouth as his teeth dug into his index finger.

"Ain't got a problem with him personally. He's just annoying as shit."

Rick fought a very unbecoming cackle.

"I call bullshit, Daryl. The man hasn't done anything to 'annoy' you. Seems to me it's exactly what you say it isn't: personal."

"The hell you care? It's not your business."

Daryl's shoulders raised and Rick recognized the look of defense. But he and Daryl had been on an understanding level with each other since they'd left the farm, and he was not much worried about having another knife swung his way by the temper-prone man.

He had always been straightforward with Daryl in the past; no sense in beating around the bush this time…

"My business is the safety of the group, and of our guest. I don't want your jealousy endangering others, is all."

Daryl stopped chewing at his finger and his eyes narrowed.

"The hell you talkin' about, _jealousy_?"

Rick couldn't fight the grin and Daryl responded with a huff of anger. He held up his hands to ease the igniting explosion, but the fuse was lit…

"Daryl….it's obvious. And it's not a big deal, really. I mean…it's kind of the spirit of the season, anyway…"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Rick chuckled despite Daryl's growing frustration.

"You know…springtime. Hell, that pig on the fire was probably trying to find itself a girlfriend when you killed it."

"...The _hell _are you talkin' about?"

Rick pushed from the RV and landed a hand on Daryl's shoulder. The muscles beneath his palm quivered and a glare met him when he dared to look the man in the eye:

"Carol. You're going off on Mike like this because of her. And I get it….you're just trying to protect what's yours, just like the rest of us—"The body under his hand disappeared as Daryl jerked away and turned his back on him, pacing the ground a few steps before whirling on him with a snarl.

"You're so full of shit, Rick."

He turned away again, resumed chewing on his fingers. He hovered as such and seemed to be staring off at the lake, intent on ignoring his presence.

Rick decided enough had been said. Daryl knew that his aggressive behavior had been called out and discouraged.

But the motivation for said behavior had not.

As Rick turned to rejoin the fire he paused at the words that were nearly whispered his way:

"...She know?"

He looked back to find Daryl glancing at him over his shoulder, his eyes creased and brow furrowed.

He smiled; offered a short nod.

"Yeah; pretty sure she does…"

Daryl did not huff or snarl or curse in response.

He simply turned away and nodded, and Rick knew the nod was not meant for him.

His friend was making a decision.

He just hoped it didn't involve killing anyone in their sleep.


	7. Message Sent

**Sorry for the small delay; school and whatnotz.**

**Another chappy up (tis a bit short, apologies), and we're almost done! Enjoy, and thanks as always!**

* * *

><p>It would be difficult to drag himself off the floor that morning.<p>

They'd all eaten to the point of bursting the night before, unable to really store anything away without proper means for preserving foods. Since their time in the park, what they brought from the farm, what he killed and what others found growing was what they ate. And if it was perishable, it was eaten on the day.

He'd gone to sleep with a full stomach, but he doubted that its expanded capacity was the reason behind its gurgling through most of the night.

His mind flew in a thousand different directions, his conversation with Rick sitting heavily on his chest as he stared up at the black ceiling of the RV.

Daryl knew what he needed to do; knew what he _wanted_ to do.

But he didn't know how.

And so he'd laid there in mild discomfort, listening to her soft breathing in the bed above him until he'd finally fallen asleep.

The morning dawn filtered through the Winnebago's windows and Daryl stood and stretched, the forest calling him to seek out the day's meal for the group. He knew his skill set well, knew that one of his primary purposes in camp was to provide sustenance for the others.

That was fine by him.

Hunting meant getting away from the crowd for at least a _part_ of the day.

Movement from the bed drew his sleep-filled gaze down and he felt frozen at the sight of the woman in the dim lighting. Carol was sprawled halfway on her stomach, face lingering off the pillow under her head and one arm hanging down off the side of the bed.

He hadn't noticed her hand dangling by his head when he awoke.

Her legs shifted and the suspended hand twitched.

Daryl felt sure that if it remained it would eventually go numb. She would probably just pull it back up herself…

_So grab the bow and leave, then._

He chewed on his tongue and looked down the length of the RV, noting Dale's absence. The old man was known to come inside in the mornings to crank the old vehicle up and ensure it was still running.

The front seat was empty and he turned back to the unconscious body in the bed.

Bending down, he gritted his teeth and reached out…

His fingers tingled as they wrapped around her arm, just under the elbow, coaxing it to bend until her body jerked (along with his) and she rolled away from the edge of bed slightly, finishing the movement for him.

He watched as she drew the arm across her now exposed stomach and sighed quietly in her sleep.

Daryl held his hand over her for a moment, considering the possibility of touching her again. After all, her shirt _was_ hiking up just a bit, and he could-

_Get your bow and __go fuckin' hunting__._

He withdrew from her with a snort and snatched the crossbow from its place beside the bed.

Touching Carol in her sleep wasn't gonna put food on the table.

* * *

><p>The loud snap of the bolt being released was always satisfying to his ears, as was the slightly slick crack of the arrow sliding into its target at over two-hundred feet per second.<p>

Daryl stared down at the hare as it stopped twitching and fell into death, his mind going blank as a gust of wind blew through the trees around him. For a moment he thought he heard a howl in the air, and he quickly snatched the bolt from the small animal and reloaded it before taking the hare and adding it to his string.

An uncomfortable feeling very different from the one he'd woken up with seemed to linger in the dark corner of his consciousness as he scanned the forest's edge, gauging his distance from the camp.

The trees swayed and cast shadows on the forest floor, the birds in their tops going quiet and many taking flight. He gripped the bow and crossed over the stone path that followed the creek, picking up his pace as slowly, his mind began to recognize the feeling that nagged him.

The trees gave way to the bright green and flowery yellow of the fields and he broke into the open area with a brisk walk, stopping to turn in all directions and search for movement.

Another wind blew and again, and the sound of distant howling came with it.

Daryl stepped backward as he listened closer, his gut churning and the blood in his veins rushing with energy.

Not howling.

_Moaning_.

The lingering dread turned to panic and flooded his eyesight.

Turning on a heel he ran, droplets of blood flinging into his face as the string of dead animals flew haphazardly across his shoulder.

* * *

><p>He heard the shouts as he raced into camp, the cries of the baby and Lori screaming at Carl to follow her into their cabin. The Walkers were already stumbling down the lakeside toward them, and as he rounded the bank opposite the small herd he fired a bolt at the one nearest to him, knocking it off its feet as it fell at the water's edge.<p>

Slinging the string off his shoulder he flung it onto the dock and secured the bow over the other before reaching back to snatch the pistol out of the back of his pants.

He hesitated, however; counted the number of Walkers and considered the best course of action.

Eight remained by his count, and already Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn were racing forward with machetes and bats and crowbars, ready to bludgeon them rather than shoot outright.

He met Rick's gaze and nodded, taking his lead and switching back to the crossbow.

As he fired at another he could see past the clash of man and monster, and further into the camp he caught sight of Dale on the RV, rifle raised and ready to fire at Rick's signal. Andrea brandished Shane's shotgun but wasn't joining the men in the fray; she ushered Maggie towards Lori's cabin and he could see the look of fear on the younger woman's face, her concern for Glenn obvious even to him, even from such a distance…

Daryl felt time stop and his heartbeat speed up as his eyes darted in search of the two missing members of the group. He did not stop to ponder whether or not he truly considered _Mike_ a part of them…

He rushed past Rick as the man brought a machete down into a Walker's skull, ignored the curses of Glenn's efforts to drive a crowbar into another.

His eyes searched for movement and found it by the side of the Rec building.

Behind him, he could hear Shane shout,

"Two more! Goddammit!"

But he did not turn to see whether Shane meant two left, or two additional…

His eyes narrowed at the sight of Mike grasping Carol in his arms, whispering words into her ear before nodding to the RV. He saw her turn in his grip and nod.

A moan sounded behind him and Daryl whipped around to drive a buck knife through the eye of the dead woman that staggered at him, the Walker's close vicinity to the back of his neck doing nothing to shake him.

A herd the size of Alabama could trample through the park and his nerves would not be as unset as they were by the sight of another man running his hands across Carol's shoulders…

Mike was whispering again, and at his last word Carol shot out from beside the building, making for the Winnebago. Mike himself pulled out his own knife and headed behind her. Daryl caught Dale's reaction to their flight, his rifle training over them before moving over the three Walkers still shambling into camp.

_Two additional, apparently._

Rick raced past him and brought another down.

But Daryl could see that Carol was seconds away from being cut off from her safe haven atop the RV.

His last bolt loaded, he let it fly to kill the one closest to her before reaching behind him to pull his blade from the Walker at his feet.

With a snarl he set forward, breath on fire and eyes red in more ways than one. He all but shoved Rick aside with the force of his sprint, shouting with a guttural tone that shocked even him:

"Carol! _Stop_!"

The woman froze and so did Mike.

The remaining Walker reached for her just as Daryl barreled into its side, toppling the broken heap of rotting meat and wasting no time in sliding the metal into the side of its soft skull with an animalistic grunt.

As the camp fell silent he stood and turned to check behind him, noting that all members of the group were unbitten and accounted for. Rick and Shane huffed for breath from their efforts chasing after him, Glenn and T-Dog standing closer to the lake and scanning the fields beyond for more intruders.

He felt Carol come to stand next to him and he whirled on her, his face so close that their noses touched and he panted hot breath against her so heavily that her eyes blinked against the onslaught.

He saw those eyes run across his face again, her lips drawing down and then up, that goddamn half-smile forming and his mind still reeling in such chaos that he simply didn't have the energy to try and figure out its meaning….

"Carol? You okay?" Mike's voice cut the air behind the woman and Daryl's jaw clenched.

With a glance toward Rick he breathed deep and remembered their conversation.

_Don't kill him. Don't. _

She turned her back on him to give Mike her assurances, her words gentle but shaky with lingering nerves and a touch of fear.

With no thought to his actions he stepped forward and drew closer, careful not to make contact with her back but coming dangerously close.

From over her shoulder he breathed out and drew his lips tight.

Met Mike's concerned gaze.

And glared his final warning.


	8. Message Received

**Another short update! **

**I'm blown away by all the amazing reviews and support; it's mind-boggling and awesome and I want to hugz you allz.**

**Enjoy; I hope to finish things up soon!**

* * *

><p>The smoke billowed up from the field across the lake, and as she inhaled her nostrils filled with the horrible smell of burning dead flesh.<p>

Carol wrinkled her nose but did not gag.

She was used to this by now.

They'd piled the dead Walkers on top of each other and set them ablaze, Rick and T-Dog standing nearby to watch the fire and ensure it did not spread to the field itself. Shane, Andrea and Daryl had spread out with weapons in hand, searching the grounds for any signs of additional threats.

Carol could see Shane and Andrea beyond the fire, walking the edge of the woods on either side of the field and making their way back towards the camp.

Daryl, she knew, had probably walked farther into the forest, determined to check as far out as possible.

Carol rubbed her nose and sniffled against the foul odor blowing towards her in the breeze, turning away from the sight to find the rest of the group emerging to resume regular daily life.

The small herd was one of few that had tumbled across their haven, and its sudden appearance shook the nerves of all. But until Rick declared the site unsafe, they would remain.

And Walker attacks were just something they had to deal with.

The wind kissed the slight glisten of sweat on her shoulders and she shivered at the memory of Daryl's breath bearing down on her just an hour before, a pang of heat shooting down her spine and making her head swim. She knew what he'd been doing when he turned on her after killing the Walker; she read the words in his eyes and had been unable to resist a smile despite the terror that shook her.

She knew, too, that he'd crept up against her as she spoke to Mike for a reason. She didn't miss the way Mike's eyes shifted from hers to the man behind her and his worry turned to confusion and then to realization.

She didn't know, however, whether Mike would admit what he'd seen.

And she certainly did not know if Daryl would admit what he _felt_.

As she headed to the dining cabin to begin setting up for a late lunch, Carol breathed deep to clear her head. She would fret over her strange situation at a later time.

The hardworking men of the group needed full stomachs and she needed something to occupy her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Only a few stopped their work to eat.<p>

Carol was not surprised; Rick was not one to take an attack lightly and Shane was certain to bypass food in order to secure the area. T-Dog was with them, and Andrea had come in to snag a can of pears from the farm and dart back out with promises to share with the others.

Lori, Carl, Maggie and Glenn sat at one end of the table and ate in moderate silence, the only noises coming from little Sophie. Dale was still perched on the RV and she had made sure to bring him a plate before settling down herself.

Daryl had not returned from his scouting, and Carol ignored her worry. Rick had assured her that he would begin a search if Daryl did not come back by the end of the hour, and that was enough to force her fears down for the time being.

She made sure to pray just a bit more adamantly, however, before digging into her food.

Mike settled down across from her with his own plate and offered a smile before beginning his meal.

They ate in silence, and Carol did not complain.

She needed time to think, anyway.

* * *

><p>He'd offered to help her do dishes, and once again, Carol was surprised at Mike's willingness to help out with the more domestic types of chores.<p>

His unfazed demeanor about it all brought a smile to her lips and she felt her chest tighten.

As they boiled a pot of lake water to rinse with she laid a bold hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you for looking out for me earlier."

The darkening scruff above his lip twitched up as he smiled again, and he nodded in a rather silly gentlemanly fashion.

"Any time." His smile faltered then, eyes losing their spark just slightly as he grew suddenly serious. "But I think you should really be thanking Daryl. He's the one that went all 'Rambo' for you."

He laughed a bit and she along with him, the tightness of her chest loosening at his humor and the positive acknowledgement of the other man in her life.

_And she could no longer deny that Daryl Dixon was indeed __in__ her life._

She nodded, mostly to herself, and looked up to meet Mike's eyes.

"I will, when he gets back. Hopefully it'll be soon…." She glanced back towards the forest and drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

A warm hand slid over hers and Carol looked down at Mike's fingers on her wrist.

"I wouldn't worry much; guy seems tough as nails. And I don't think he's gonna let himself get killed. Not when he's got so much to come back to."

Carol swallowed hard and met his gaze again.

In those glistening brown eyes she could see his understanding, the resignation of something he'd wanted and the acceptance of not being able to have it. For a moment she felt the need to apologize, and she didn't even know for _what_, really.

She squeezed his hand and they got back to work, Carol's nerves settling completely. A small chuckle escaped her.

She wondered if the clarity that suddenly washed over her was what Daryl called 'Zen'.

* * *

><p>The water had just cooled enough to use when Dale stood from the top of the RV and peered through the binoculars.<p>

"It's Daryl. He looks okay."

She followed his direction and could see the figure in the distance, just emerging from the wood line. Carol swallowed her relief and reached forward to touch Mike's arm.

"I…I need to go. Could you-?"

"Sure, it's not a problem. Just be careful, 'kay?"

Patting the knife at her side she stood and grinned down at him before turning and setting out towards the lake.

She would intercept Daryl farther out if she could.

They needed to talk.


	9. Zen Restored

**Final chapter! WOOOO! **

**Hope you guys have enjoyed everything. And be advised: Alamo Girl and I have more plans for this 'verse. It's just far too much fun not to continue playing with!**

**Please let me know how yall' feel. ^.^**

* * *

><p>Well over an hour had passed before he emerged from the forest to backtrack to camp.<p>

He had followed the tracks left by the small herd for miles back; the signature dragging imprints through dirt and grass and leaves was unmistakable. He could tell from the direction they led him in that the Walkers had come from a small city about forty-five miles south of the park. Mike had mentioned passing through it in his blind flight.

At the thought of the group 'newbie' he scowled, finger tensing against the trigger of his crossbow instinctively. It was hard not to hate the man, although Daryl could admit that it was probably not entirely _Mike's_ fault that he did so. Either the newcomer didn't understand the silent warnings Daryl had been sending, or he just didn't care.

If it was the former, then Daryl was harboring hatred for an idiot.

But if it was the latter, he was doing so for a _dead man_.

He could smell the acrid smoke as the wind shifted and blew across the back of the fields, and he sneered at the thought of the odor sticking to his skin and clothes. If he could help it, he'd rather avoid bringing the scent of death into the RV. The Winnebago was old as shit, but it smelled of the flowers Carol picked to brighten the area after she cleaned, and he'd prefer it to stay that way.

A dark shadow passed across the field and he gazed upward at the rainclouds that were slowly but surely forming. The sun continued to beat down on his head, puffy white fluffs scattered about a blue sky, but a darker grey was growing over the trees and he knew the afternoon would end in some amount of rain.

He trudged on through the pollen-rich field and as he walked up a grassy hill that overlooked the campsite he could see the fire Rick and T-Dog had started and were keeping vigil over. The flames licked the sky and both men were covering their noses against the stench.

It seemed everyone would be stinking up a storm that night…

His attention shifted suddenly as a figure bypassed the fire and came gliding towards the hilltop. Carol was walking briskly, arms moving by her sides and a purpose in her step. With the speed at which she walked he felt his muscles tense.

Had someone been hurt during the attack that he'd been unaware of? Had he missed something? Had one of the guys been bitten?

Had _she_?

As she neared her arms crossed over her abdomen and he frowned.

No, there was no way she'd been bit; he had cut off the only Walkers to come near her. And he would have heard something had another herd blown through…

He began to step forward and head down the hill but by the time he moved she was already there, her breathing heavier than usual and a light sheen on her skin. Her face was flushed slightly, but he knew she had an advantage when it came to fighting the heat. Andrea, Lori and Maggie suffered far worse with their longer hair than Carol; he was impressed with her decision to keep the practical cut.

She stood in the grass and held herself, a sudden nervousness coming off of her in waves, and Daryl watched as her fingers tapped against the opposite arm it was wrapped against. She inhaled deeply, and he moved forward, into her space, his eyes shifting across her tank-top and looking for any signs of injury.

"You hurt?"

As if startled by his voice she lowered her arms and stepped back, and as he met her eyes they softened at him and sent his own gut rolling.

"No, I'm fine. Everyone's fine."

"What are you doin' then, rushing up here like your ass is on fire?"

A grin crept across her lips and Carol suddenly laughed lightly, and if he wasn't still riled up from adrenaline he'd have probably grinned back.

_Because that smile was just….contagious._

"I just…wanted to get away from the camp for a few minutes. Everyone's so tense from the attack and I needed to breathe."

"All you'll be breathing is that shit-smelling smoke. Wind keeps shifting it this way."

"Can we walk, then?"

The hopeful tone in her voice was just enough to send him peering back the way he'd come, the field behind him opening up with blossoms and green grass before being overshadowed by looming trees. An old white-picket fence cut through one side, winding into the forest but ending abruptly as if unfinished.

He avoided the heavy look she was giving him and nodded toward the fence.

She followed quietly as he turned and followed his own tracks through the field.

* * *

><p>Daryl was fidgeting again, chewing on his lip and fiddling with his nails.<p>

Carol was busying herself by the fence, kneeling down to look at a bundle of flowers growing against the base of the wood. He wondered if she'd always liked flowers so much…

Or if she began enjoying them after he began giving them to her.

He looked up as she stood to face him, and in her hand he could see a small white flower. A daisy, he reckoned.

Not a Cherokee rose.

He watched her finger the petals and could hear their old conversation by Hershel's pond in his head, replaying as if something out of a dream that would ultimately be followed by a nightmare.

He didn't realize he was frowning until she set a worried look on him.

Blinking back to reality he offered a small smile to reassure her.

_Of what, he didn't really know._

Carol twirled the flower between her fingers and stepped closer to him.

And suddenly, the open field grew small.

"I meant to thank you for…well, _saving_ me."

He huffed as she held the flower close to her chest and leaned closer to her.

"What, you gonna start giving me flowers now?"

Rather than retreat from his sarcasm Carol seemed to tolerate it, as she always did, and she sniffed at the daisy and held it out to him with a strange smile.

"I wasn't, but now I am." She set a determined look on him and he flushed, heat spreading into his face and he wanted to snatch the damned flower she presented and crush it between his hands in some hopeful attempt to destroy the feelings she tormented him with along with the useless fuckin' plant.

Instead, his fingers closed around the stem and he took it from her, lowering it to his side and ignoring its presence in his hand.

Daryl wasn't sure what she was doing, teasing him with flowers, but he didn't like it. He didn't like the way his fingers seemed to spasm when he thought of touching her, and he didn't like the way she smiled at him and _made_ him smile back. He didn't like the way he grew apprehensive when she offered those same smiles to Mike, because he didn't like the thought that this simple, shy, _gentle_ woman could hold so much power over him.

He didn't like it because he _did_ like it.

And goddamn, he didn't know how to tell her that.

He invaded her space again, as he seemed to be doing often lately, and she didn't tense. She didn't give him a look of concern, and she didn't ask him if he was alright.

She was waiting, and he didn't know for what, and he didn't care.

He growled at her in frustration:

"You should've stayed by the cabin side, out of sight. Makin' a run for the RV was a stupid move. You were spotted and Dale would've had to start shooting to get those Walkers off you."

He knew reprimanding her about something that was over and done with was silly, but he also felt it needed to be said. She needed to be smarter about the decisions she made in a crisis.

Just in case he wasn't there to…

"But Dale didn't have to. You were there. And so was Michael."

What little space between their bodies seemed to get cold as the name drifted to his ear and he saw her eyes flicker down as if she hadn't meant to say it. The flower in his fist bent as he crushed its stem.

"_Michael_?"

"Mike, I mean. That's his name…"

Daryl pulled away slightly and fought the urge to throw a hand into the air and scare her away from him. Rick's words kept him grounded, the decision he'd made that evening keeping him clear. He urged the bloodlust for the man away, but could not hold his tongue on the matter entirely.

"Yeah? Well _Michael_ did a fuckin' _bang-up _job of keeping you safe. Sending you out into the middle of the camp to try and reach the RV? That dumbass can't even protect himself, much less anyone _else_!" The shout did not faze her. But he cursed himself for letting his voice raise.

She wasn't to blame for the fuck-up that almost got her chewed on by two Walkers.

He avoided her eyes and considered instantly the idea of apologizing.

_Cuz you're just going about everything __perfectly__. Dumbass._

Carol sighed and the words were on his tongue when she reached out to grasp at his hand, straightening the broken flower that threatened to fall away from its split stem.

"Why do you hate him so much?"

_You __kidding__?_

"I don't hate him. Man ain't really done anything to me. He's just stupid, and I can't stand stupid people. Stupid people get you killed—"

"He's not stupid. He just doesn't know how to survive in…._this_. He's actually very smart."

"Whatever…"

"But you're right. I should have stayed put. His decision was the wrong one and it could have ended badly for both of us."

Daryl felt like his hand no longer worked, and he stared down at it as she played with the flower he held, running a thumb over the small, silky petals. Every few strokes she'd touch his own thumb instead, and he swore it felt like she was shocking him with the lightness of her contact.

Part of him wanted desperately to push her away, to snap at her for standing up for the idiot in their group and make some snarky remark about her fucking him.

_Except that very thought made him want to tear a living being open with all the rage of a fucking __bear__._

Carol pulled her hand away and he hesitantly accepted its retreat.

Then she stepped back from him completely, and for a moment he wondered if she could hear his violent thoughts.

"Daryl?"

He blinked and forced himself to look up at her, finding a look of curiosity and expectation on her face.

"What?"

"What exactly is going on with…us?"

He suddenly wished for a second heart, because his was threatening to shut down.

He set a glare on her and the muscles in his legs tensed up to flee.

_Because this simple, shy, gentle woman had the power to make him __run away__. Fuck._

"_What_?"

"You and Mike. You and _me_. I don't get it…"

_Really, woman? _How could she…?

As he stood frozen in place he dared to run his eyes over her face and he caught the twitch of her lip, and suddenly her words held new meaning. Daryl felt a growl rumble in his throat.

She knew _exactly_ what was going on, and she was fucking playing him.

_Challenging him._

The poor daisy fell away and his fist clenched and his mind flickered from one thought to the next, his vision blurring as he suddenly moved with no real knowledge of even doing so. Fingers met bare skin and his hands grasped at her arms to pull her against him.

He heard her gasp, but ignored it.

He felt her mouth crashing into his and everything else in the world stopped existing for about three seconds.

He could feel her teeth beneath her lips, the force with which he was kissing her so great that it was almost painful. Her mouth was warm and compliant, pressing back against his and he came close to unleashing his tongue into the onslaught.

And then he opened his eyes—_and when did he __close__ them, exactly?_—to find hers watching him during the kiss and the jolt of reality hit him like lightening.

He jerked away, puffing out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held. The warm skin under his fingers was tight and he looked at her arms to find his nails digging into them. Carol didn't protest. She didn't wince or whine.

She simply stood there and smiled at him, eyes wide and flicking all over his face with a strange look….

_Joy?_

"Got it now?" He grumbled into her face, only half aware of the whisper even as it came. She nodded absently and he fought the urge to kiss her again...

His jaw clenched tight and he knew no other words would come (even if he knew what else he should fucking say) and she didn't bother pressing him for any.

Daryl felt his chest tighten and his eye twitch when Carol's tongue darted out against her lips and she nodded away from the fence.

"Um…want to head back?"

He nodded a little faster than he'd meant to.

She smiled at him again and set off back towards camp.

He preached Zen to himself as he followed behind her slow and graceful strides.

* * *

><p>The camp came back into sight and they were nearing the now smoldering fire when he picked up his pace to come up behind her.<p>

Nudging a shoulder with his own, he met her gaze as she turned her head to look at him and he finally found his voice:

"Asshole won't be flirtin' with you tomorrow."

Even he wasn't sure if it was an assurance or a threat, but she only chuckled at him and shook her head.

"Just don't go breaking his nose to get your point across?"

He huffed and headed out in front of her, jerking his head back to grin wickedly.

"No promises, woman."

* * *

><p>Thunder rumbled over the camp as they entered, the clouds thickening and he realized they'd gotten back just in time.<p>

He felt his face fluster again when Carol touched his arm as she passed him to head to the dining cabin, and his stomach instantly grumbled at the thought of food.

Peering up at the RV he caught Mike sitting beside Dale, a rifle in hand. The man looked down at him and then towards the direction Carol had taken. Their eyes met and Mike tipped the old cap on his head with a nod.

Daryl offered his own acknowledging gesture and turned to follow behind the woman.

_His_ _woman_.

It seemed Mike wasn't as stupid as he'd pegged him for. The man got the point, and Daryl was grateful.

It appeared the new member of the group would be allowed to keep the breath in his lungs after all.


End file.
